Chapter Text
Yasuho was wired, running on too much caffeine and too little sleep. She couldn’t sleep last night. How could she? She couldn’t stop thinking about the events of the day to come.
Today, she was to lead the Ceremony of Renewal!
It was a tremendous honor, one that few clergy of Kira’s holy order were ever blessed to experience. Once a year, Lord Kira graced one temple in the world with his actual, physical presence, in order to conduct this annual ritual.
This year, Yasuho’s humble temple in Okinawa had been selected. Yasuho had only been a high priestess for two years – she hadn’t expected her place of worship to ever be selected during her tenure, much less for it to happen so soon into her priesthood. She felt unprepared. She had spoken to her mentor, Bishop Teru (a common name; he was named after the First Angel), and he had reassured her by asking an obvious question: “Is anyone ever prepared to be in His Holy Presence?” While this didn’t entirely quiet her nerves, it did make her feel less of an undeserving imposter. For at least, she was no more undeserving than anyone else.
Bishop Teru had also passionately told her other encouraging things such as “Your faith pulses so brightly that even mere mortals can feel it, giving us a touch of the experience of divinity,” but this just sounded like some of his typical poetic nonsense, so she brushed it off.
The sun was nestled upon the horizon, preparing to dip below. It was nearly time to let the crowd into the building. Yasuho stood in her office in the second story of the building, nervously looking out the window at the crowd. Many people were already waiting outside the temple. It was a festival out there; they shared food, art, and they sang songs of worship. They’d been there all day; she could hear them milling about while she and the altar servants had been preparing the temple for His arrival. Some had even arrived the night before, camping out in their desperation to get a seat for the most coveted show in the world.
Yasuho shook her head sadly. There was no way this many people would fit in her temple. Even if they all stood, packed in like people on a busy train, she had room for maybe 10% of them? It would be painful to turn so many of the faithful away. But truthfully, this was usually the case for the Ceremony of Renewal. Only the most massive temples were able to house the kind of turnout that came for these events. Historical and religious texts stated that in the 20 or so years following his ascension, Kira-sama only appeared at his largest churches based in the world’s largest metropolitan areas, so that as many people as possible could receive the gift of his presence. But eventually, he began appearing at smaller ones in more varied locations because, he had explained, all people deserved to witness God.
Some people also theorized that he had simply become bored of going to the same cities over and over. But that was not the explanation that Kira had provided, and so such a theory was considered heresy.
Yasuho’s hometown of Kumejima had been more crowded than she’d ever seen it in her life. Save for a few professions deemed to be essential such as doctors and nurses, all workers were mandated to have a full week off every year to celebrate the Day of Creation on February 28, and the Ceremony of Renewal on March 4. It was customary to travel to the location that Kira had selected for the festivities, but as Kumejima was located on a small island, tourism had to be capped by the imperial government. After the projected attendance reached the theorized maximum number of people that the island could support, no more boat or airfare was allowed to be booked.
Some of the flock outside noticed Yasuho watching them, and they waved up at her, leaping up and down excitedly. They cried out greetings to her. “Blessed Day, Mother!” “The Moon shines on you!” Yasuho smiled cordially and waved to them. Then she sighed and moved away from her window. She needed to ensure preparations were complete.
She approached the mirror in her office to check her appearance one last time. She wore the traditional garb to be used when officiating the Ceremony of Renewal. Each clergyperson was expected to own a set, with the knowledge that it would most likely never be used… But here she was.
It was a pure white robe accented by an elegant floral pattern in glittering gold. The laced accents traveled down her chest, around her sides, and up her back like vines, ultimately leading up to a hood which she pulled up over her head. The sprawling vine design continued over her hood, encircling her face. She smiled and admired her form in the mirror. Yasuho thought of herself as a somewhat homely woman – dull hair, plain face, lumpy body – but when wrapped in the blessed clothing of the holy day, she felt her appearance would perhaps be unoffensive to God.
She left her office and locked the door behind her. From this room, she walked down a simple hallway and then opened another door, thus entering the temple proper.
It was a two-story design, following the mandate for all temples built after the year 10 A.R. (After Rebirth). The rules for temple construction were fairly loose; there were just a few requirements that had to be met, and other than that, the design was largely up to the architect and artists working on the building.
Yasuho was on the upper floor. In this main area of the temple, the upper floor was lofted; open to the lower floor. Here, a golden railing surrounded the large opening in the floor. Yasuho walked around the circular room, inspecting the railing and the deep green carpet to ensure it was spotless. She peeked over the railing, down to the first floor below.
The altar servants, clad in robes which were a dark red color reminiscent of dried blood, were busily doing the same thing she was doing – making sure everything was clean and all things were in their orderly place. The distinguished guests were there, too, sitting in their reserved seating in the front row of pews.
Yasuho continued encircling the room until she reached the opposite side. The first floor was lined with pews for the gathered mass, but the second floor had no seating – save for one. Yasuho felt butterflies in her stomach merely from looking upon the throne. Her knees wobbled and her legs became weak. When she was a meter away from it, she collapsed to her knees and prostrated herself, clutching at the carpet for balance in the face of her suddenly swirling vision. It was ridiculous – she’d polished it earlier today until the gemstones shined and the metal reflected her plain, mousy face. She hadn’t been so overcome with emotion then. But now… Kira-sama himself would be seated in this very chair in only 30 minutes time! She could throw up from nervousness!
“Mother Yasuho?” she heard a voice from below.
She sucked in a breath and attempted to steady her nerves. She stood, turned around and looked down at the altar servants on the floor below her. “Yes. I am ready. Is everything in order?” Her words carried nary a hint of her uncertainty.
“Y-Yes, Mother. I’m... terribly sorry to have interrupted your moment of prayer. B-but mass begins in 30 minutes. If everything looks acceptable to you, then, um, we should open the doors soon,” stammered Shintaro, a lanky, deferential man of about 35 years old.
“That’s quite alright. Let me come downstairs and have a quick look around.”
Yasuho glanced back at the throne behind her. It was polished to perfection and the velvet-lined seat was brushed flawlessly straight. She nodded approvingly at her own handiwork, feeling a surge of confidence.
Behind the throne was the top of a spiral staircase, and behind that was an ornate double-door. Kira would enter through that door and take his rightful seat, looking down upon his gathered worshipers. Yasuho felt another wave of sick nervousness, but it was brief and she pushed it away.
She started to descend the stairs. It felt like blasphemy. She never used these stairs. No one did. There was a plain, ordinary staircase on the side of the building with the offices, which was what was she and anyone else who needed to go there used. The only purpose for this spiral staircase was for Kira’s use. This design, with the lofted second floor and a spiral staircase leading up to a throne, were required in the standard blueprint of any “small” temple. Any part of the building that Kira had specifically dictated felt holy and untouchable.
But the stairs weren’t officially off-limits, and they were the quickest route and she was in a hurry, so on she went. The bottom of the stairs placed her behind the altar. She investigated her surroundings. The temple was always lovely. Yasuho thought so, anyway. It was like a second home to her. But today it was adorned with fine decorations purchased and commissioned for the occasion. Silken fabrics were attached to the ceiling and to the light fixtures to form waves of brilliant hues of red and gold, complementing the natural wooden design of the temple. Candles were affixed across the walls and they flickered with a cozy glow. Small tapestries had been woven for the occasion and hung upon just a few key places on the walls to serve as tasteful accents. Even the stained glass windows had been updated for the occasion. This was an old building and the windows had lost some of their luster, but an acclaimed glassworker had completely redone them all, while preserving the somewhat muted look that they had always had. Indeed, the chapel looked more luxurious than it normally did, but it was no big city temple. Rather than dress it up too much and try to make it look like something it wasn’t, Yasuho thought it better to lean in to the aged building’s unique charms. Surely, Kira had selected this place for a reason, after all.
The “stage” of the church, that is the chancel, was laid out as follows: From the perspective of someone in the audience, in the front left there was an oak pulpit of simple design with the holy book, the Shugi*, laid out upon it. A cloth maroon runner laid over the pulpit and under the book. In the front right there was a sizable wooden altar draped with a simple white cloth upon which offerings could be made. In the back-center was a secondary throne, and the front center was covered by a red rug. The flooring on the chancel was marble, but hardwood in the rest of the building.
Yasuho glanced at the large doors which opened to the outside. “There are too many,” she stated.
The altar servants nodded. “What should we do?” asked Katarina, a tall woman of 30 who carried herself with a commanding air – Yasuho, who was around the same age as her, wished sometimes she had her confidence and elegance.
“We have room for 300. That is 200 seated plus 100 standing. You will count the people as they enter and close the doors when we reach that number,” Yasuho explained.
“300,” breathed Valentina in awe. She was a bright-eyed, petite, full-bodied girl of 19. “We’ve never had so many here before! I’m so excited!!” she bounced on the balls of her feet.
“It’s nothing. I hear Heart’s Blessings temple in New Pacifica gets 2,000 worshipers every week, and when they host Renewal, they cram 5,000 people in there,” said Devon with a grin. He was the same age as Valentina and had a similar temperament and build.
“God is literally going to be here and you all are interested in the number of people?” scoffed Xi, a serious, muscular man of 40.
“We do not have time to have conversation,” said Yasuho. “Mass begins in 25 minutes.”
The five of them nodded and began to move to their positions, but Yasuho stopped them. “Before we begin, let us briefly pray together, please.”
Yasuho held her hands out. Understanding the gesture, the 5 interlocked their hands and stood in a circle.
The priestess looked over at the people sitting quietly near the altar. “Miss Emmaline…” she spoke, and although her native language was Japanese, her pronunciation of the English name was flawless. The world’s common tongue in this day and age was a blend of English, which had been the common tongue in the pre-Kira era, and Japanese, the birth-tongue of God.
“...would you like to join us?”
The girl addressed as Emmaline looked up through her golden bangs shyly. She looked at her mother and her father on either side of her, as if to ask them if it was alright. They gave her encouraging smiles. The girl got up from her seat and joined in to the prayer circle on Yasuho’s right hand side. The priestess comfortingly squeezed her hand holding Emmaline’s.
Yasuho closed her eyes and spoke, slow deliberation giving weight to her words. “Kira-sama, our God, our eternal light in the dark… You are close. I swear, in this proximity, I can feel you. My soul burns with anticipation. Soon you will be here, with us, and I would not believe it, if it weren’t for the fact that I will always believe in you. I pray that on this blessed day of life and renewal, you are pleased by our humble place of worship, and by these seven unworthy servants.”
She released her hands and hadn’t realized how tightly she was gripping Emmaline and Shintaro’s hands. She apologized quietly. Then, she felt a wetness on her cheek. “Oh dear…” she muttered and dabbed away the tear.
Emmaline shuffled back to her seat. The five altar servants stared at Yasuho with admiration. Their leader might not have the most commanding presence for a high priestess, but the way she inspired her flock was with her raw strength of faith. It was powerful and it was contagious.
“You are like a conduit, Mother, for now I feel Him too,” said Katarina. “I think He is already proud of you.”
“Oh,” Yasuho moaned, and threw her arms around Katarina in a hug. “You are too kind. Thank you.”
Katarina blushed and returned the hug with an uncharacteristic nervousness. The other four exchanged knowing looks, suppressing laughter.
Yasuho broke the hug and walked over to where Emmaline and her parents were sitting. There was still time to have one final word with the girl.
“Excuse me, would you mind if I spoke briefly with your daughter in private?” Yasuho asked politely.
The man and woman nodded enthusiastically, eyes wide with religious passion. The woman was staring at the details on Yasuho’s robe, admiring it as a rare art-piece.
“Of course, please!” said the father.
“Thank you,” said Yasuho with a warm smile. Then she waved for Emmaline to follow her to the back of the church.
Emmaline was also wearing elaborate religious clothing, but with a distinctly different style than Yasuho’s or the altar servants’ clothing. In contrast to the loose, modest robes of the clergy members, Emmaline wore an off-shoulder dress that clung tightly to her breasts and waist. It tapered off at her hips, flowing outwards with the aid of a petticoat and then trailing along the floor. Its color pattern mimicked Yasuho’s robes; that is, it was pure white with golden spider-like designs, but the gold trim was notably more chaotic in nature than the orderly lines of the priestess’ clothing. Yasuho had never told anyone this, but she rather thought that the pattern of the trim on the Chosen’s garb abstractly made one think of… handwriting.
They sat down in the back pew. Out of earshot of her parents, Yasuho whispered in the girl’s native tongue of English. “Miss Emmaline, this is your final chance. I just want to be certain that you wish to proceed with the ritual.”
The girl gave a half smile and rolled her eyes, not making eye contact. “Mother Yasuho, you’ve asked me this question like a million times. I haven’t changed my mind. Yes, I want to do it.”
Her tone was playful. Yasuho did not like this. She stared fiercely into Emmaline’s eyes, wordlessly forcing her to look.
“Emmaline, this is serious. I know I’ve asked you before. But it is not unheard of for a Chosen One to back out at the last minute, even when they were enthusiastic before. You still have the right to say no. There is always someone willing to take your place.”
The blasé look fell away from Emmaline’s face. She held eye contact for a moment before looking down, lip furling in nervousness. Yasuho held her breath, mentally bracing herself for finding a last-minute replacement.
“No, I’m sure,” said Emmaline, and Yasuho let out her breath. Emmaline continued, “I want to do it. I want to be of service to God and I want to honor my family. I… If I ever seemed unsure, it’s because… I guess I’m just a little nervous that somehow I’ll mess up and I won’t do a good job… Sorry, that’s stupid, isn’t it…?” Emmaline frowned and her bangs concealed her eyes, the perfect picture of an innocent, self-conscious teenager.
Yasuho beamed and grabbed Emmaline in a hug. (She sure was a hugger.) “That’s not silly at all! I am incredibly nervous about messing up,” she laughed and pulled away, pleased to now see Emmaline’s slight, but genuine, smile. “But you… You are going to be fantastic. I mean just look at you. You are beautiful, and I can just tell that you are pure and virtuous. Lord Kira will surely be satisfied with you.”
“Th… Thanks…” Emmaline mumbled with an embarrassed half-smile.
Yasuho stood up and clapped her hands together. “Okay! Okay! Into positions! Let the people in! Let us begin!” Yasuho said. She and a couple others walked into a room behind the altar to light the incense. Katarina and Xi would carry it into the room from the back to the front, after everyone was seated.